


The Chosen One

by Lytri



Series: Stories I May or May Not Expand On [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (But not dead), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghost Harry Potter, Ghost Powers, Grey Harry Potter, How Do I Tag, I don't know what to tag without giving spoilers, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Obsessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry Potter, This will either be M/M or Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lytri/pseuds/Lytri
Summary: For every Dark Lord a Chosen One is born in opposition, bearing a unique mark that symbolises their special power on their forehead. The threat of Lord Voldemort has been looming over Britain's Wizarding World for decades, yet there was no sign of a Chosen One being born. Until Neville Longbottom was finally presented as the Chosen One, that is.---Harry Potter was invisible, and he was perfectly fine with staying that way. It's just too bad that he was far too curious for his own good.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Stories I May or May Not Expand On [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923274
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	The Chosen One

**Author's Note:**

> Someone stop my mind from conjuring up new ideas and fixating on them before I'm finished with my other works. Help. Please. I have a problem.

23rd November 1979

Diagon Alley

Disquieted murmurs rippled through the street like a shockwave, the air heavy with something unnameable. People shuffled by, keeping tight grips on their cloaks as their eyes shifted back and forth. 

Suddenly a palid-faced man stopped and lifted up a large, wooden sign: _Give us Our Chosen One!_ it read, written in jagged, bold letters. ‘Hey!’ he shouted after casting a quick _Sonorus_ , waving the sign back and forth and causing the crowd to give him a wide berth. ‘How can you all just go about your days without a care?’ While a few people glanced over at the man in curiosity or disdain most continued on their way. 

‘The Ministry’s hiding something from us, I tell you!’ The man’s movements became jerkier, the sign nearly slamming into a shop window. ‘The Dark Lord’s been around for nearly thirty years, now! And yet, where is our Chosen One? The Ministry goes on and on, reassuring us that the Chosen one will be born soon. _Soon_ , they tell us. Always _soon_ , but it’s all _lies_. Filthy filthy lies. The Ministry - they must be hiding the Chosen one.’ He gave a crazed laugh. ‘We all know that it’s corrupt anyways. Full of twisted, pure-blood scum. They’re all Dark Wizards, I tell you! They’re going to ruin us all!’

No one paid any attention to his words. In fact, his actions only caused people to ignore him even more and hurry their steps. 

‘ _Listen to me!_ ’ he screeched, deliberately smashing the sign into the shop behind him. Glass shattered and screams echoed throughout the street. He gave another laugh, pulling out his wand threateningly. ‘Don’t you see? The Chosen One’s already been born. And it’s up to us . . .’ he paused, a look of horror on his face as the wooden sign slipped out of his fingers and dropped to the ground, ‘. . . no, no wait. It’s . . . it’s all a conspiracy, isn’t it? 

You, and you, and you . . .’ he continued to point at people in the crowd with his wand, ‘ . . . _all_ of you - you’re in on this, aren’t you? Of course, _of course_. I should’ve known better.’ He laughed so hard that tears formed in the corners of his eyes. ‘No wonder. No wonder the Chosen One hasn’t been found. It . . . it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not like this!’ He glared at the crowd, hatred shining in his beady, black eyes. ‘Dark Wizards! Every single one of you! _Avada Kedavra!_ ’ he shouted, the sickly green curse flying out into the crowd.

A man fell down, dead. 

People fleeing in terror, hysterical screams, the sound of more bodies hitting the ground . . . it wasn’t long before the street was empty, save for the lone madman and the dead. Unable to help himself, he gave another crazed laugh. 

A few moments later multiple _cracks_ of apparition sounded through the street. The Aurors had finally arrived. 

‘I knew you’d show up eventually,’ the man stated. ‘There can’t be any bad mouthing about the Ministry, now can there? I know how you people _think_ ,’ he hissed. ‘But I won’t stand for this injustice. The Chosen One, where is he, huh? I know you’re hiding him. Tell me where he is.’ He pointed his wand at one of the Aurors. ‘I said tell me!’ 

Suddenly the man dropped to the ground, having been hit by a _stupify_.

Lowering his wand, Auror McMillan removed his gaze from the prone form of the crazed murderer to the carnage he had wrought, grim-faced. Men, women - even children - were strewn about the street, lifeless. The only blessing was that their deaths were quick. His partner stepped beside him, equally as somber. ‘It’s getting worse, isn’t it?’

He didn’t - _couldn’t_ \- remove his eyes from the bodies. ‘Yes. I . . . I fear - what if . . . Merlin, what if the Chosen One really _is_ never born? What then?’

His partner put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t say that. The Chosen One will come. We just . . . we just need to wait a little longer.’ 

‘Just a little longer,’ echoed McMillan, his voice lost to the wind.


End file.
